


redemption

by mountaindews



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Confession, M/M, and a little bit of introspection, happy bday ikki!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountaindews/pseuds/mountaindews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be fun, even, looking at them in this instant, Kuro knows it would. Shu is sewing on the other side of the table as he's stuck staring at his fingers, needle in hand and a semblance of a jacket beneath it.</p><p>( in which Kuro and Shu think about what love could mean. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	redemption

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fullycharged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullycharged/gifts).



Shu's hands are light, quick, moving so fast over the cloth it doesn't almost feel like they're touching it, let alone sewing. Kuro finds himself staring at them, pale, long fingers cutting and sewing up again with meticulous precision, relentlessly, as the shirt comes to life under his touch.

It would be fun, even, looking at them in this instant, Kuro knows it would. Shu is sewing on the other side of the table as he's stuck staring at his fingers, needle in hand and a semblance of a jacket beneath it. The bright blue thread rests long and abandoned between layers of fabric, soft light spilling through the slightly parted curtains like a waterfall, hitting the table and the floor with a weird angle; the small mirror in the sewing set is sparkling brightly, sending a pure ray of light on the wall. None of them talks, too busy sewing, or pretending to be sewing.

It's foreign, and familiar, the weight on his chest. It presses down on his ribs, closes his throat in a lump too hard to chew and swallow silently; it's silent, and it's tremendously loud, the sound of Shu cutting the cloth, stitching it back together perfectly, on invisible lines they both know too well. Making a sleeve, a fringe, a collar, elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder, close and yet feeling so far; Shu doesn't talk, and neither does Kuro. Familiar, yet so foreign, hearing his breath so close, and nothing more than that. No harsh words, no bitterness, and no lingering guilt eating him alive, just the light flooding the room and making everything shine like in a glossy children book. The silence is heavy, but not uncomfortable; it's not like they're not used to lacks of words. Neither of them is very good in keeping up conversations that don't end up tasting like regrets at some point.

So they sew in silence, or pretend to. Because the soft swish of the needle is loud, so loud in Kuro's ears, and the relaxed yet tense look on Shu's face is all he can see, light highlighting the dark circles under his eyes, black like charcoal on the light pink of his skin. Loud, silent, natural, foreign, astonishing, confusing. It would be so funny looking at them without knowing how much they're feeling right now.

_*_

  
Kuro's hands are gentle, so gentle, fingers moving lightly over his back like he's afraid he'll break if he pushes down too harshly. Shu is not made of porcelain (like Mademoiselle is, a fragile bliss resting composed on the table) and he's not going to break, but there's no way he's speaking up now, not with his head resting on Kuro's shoulder and his hands gripping his jacket. Kuro's breath caresses his lips, and Shu finds himself wondering, thoughts way too embarrassing and messy to even voice them out properly. But they're here, like a nail in his brain, gloriously shameful, a spot on his pridefully controlled thoughts. He inhales sharply, tasting skin on his tongue, and that doesn't help at all.

Their sewing works have long been abandoned on the table, Shu's one almost finished, Kuro's one a little less than halfway. Carefully, so carefully Kuro moves his arms, and Shu slides better against him. Their bodies don't fit like the stereotypes would suggest; they're not made for each other (not anymore, a tiny, bad voice whispers in his ear, not anymore) but it's the best they can manage, and it's comfortable, and it's enough.

« Icchan » it feels like a childhood memory, sweet under his tongue, bitter in his throat « are you cold? »  
He's not cold (Kuro is unbearably warm against him, there's no way he could be cold) but speaking out the reason behind his little shivers is more difficult than he thought it would be.  
It's so much easier in his head. Much less embarrassing, overall.  
« We can close the window if you're cold. »  
Shu just grips at his shirt a bit more, saying nothing. He feels like a child, sitting in his lap, being so close. A scared child needing protection.  
« No » quick, almost harsh — but Kuro knows better, and though he flinches at the sudden reply, he doesn't show any sign of being hurt by the rudeness of it « I'm fine. »  
The silence they're sharing now is much more comfortable than the one that suffocated their words before.  
Kuro's lips clumsily meet his cheek, a quick kiss that feels too hot on his skin, and Shu hides his face further in his clothes, feeling it glow hot and most certainly a bright, pure red.  
« I love you. »

It feels so big, his thoughts instantly freeze. It's absurd, really. Shameless. Too rushed. Embarrassing. It's something so vast that he can't control it. He has no desire to control someone's else feelings, but it's something so terribly deep and unknown, it's scary not knowing where it could bring them.

It's scary. Because it made him breathless and he wants to hear it again. Because he knows he can't plan anything from now on, if he chooses to go down this path. Because it's not just him and his feelings anymore. Far less chances to bury them, keep them under strict control. Not even his feelings can escape his perfectionism complex.  
He finds it harder to breathe, and he'd pay all the gold in the world to reach for Mademoiselle and let her speak for him. Her comforting smile is printed on his eyelids as he inhales again, less sharply this time, and his lips part slightly, enough to whisper something against Kuro's collarbone, something he tries his best not to screw up.  
« I-I know. »  
Kuro is not even breathing, or it seems so. He's not making any noise, either way, and it only makes it harder to speak again, so he bites down his need to stand up and run away, to catch his breath and clear his thoughts somewhere else.  
« Thank you » he lets out, in a breathy, shaking voice « I know, I know you do. »  
_I love you too._  
_I love you._  
It burns on his tongue, but he can't let it out. It's stronger than his will.  
But Kuro sees through him, even after all this time, and runs a hand through his hair - soothing, comforting. Not shoving his hand away, maybe, is enough of a positive answer.

It's their curse, it's their blessing. They can start again, walk the path of redemption together; not as close as before, never as close as before, with scars that will never fully heal, but together. They can stitch them up, and it will work perfectly.

It's pure bliss, the way Kuro makes every moment something to cherish, to remember, without even noticing.  
(Maybe he does. But that's not something he can ask.)  
How impudent, how shameful for him to be so rushed.  
So Shu just rests his head against his shoulder, finally breathing again. Kuro's fingers move, still softly, but now even more gently, something that seems almost out of place. It's not, it's definitely not, and Shu gulps down his last bit of useless pride, relaxing in his hold.  
They can make it work. It's just a matter of time, but now that they have plenty, it's something he can overlook for at least tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> AAA A AAAAA i hope you liked it, my dear reader! it's my first time writing both kuro and shu, and i'm so nervous,,,,, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated, really! hit my twitter, if you want to yell at me personally: @natsumaos
> 
> (side note for dad: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! this is your little gift from me, i'm sorry it's. probably not great, there's no applesauce here  
> but anyway, i hope you liked it! i love you so much, aaaa, and happy birthday again, my friend!)


End file.
